


somebody has to go polish the stars

by Mr_Phich



Series: everyone needs a chance to be small [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Needs a Hug, Daddy!Steve, Diapers, Little!Bucky - Freeform, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Natasha Needs a Hug, Non-Sexual Age Play, Protective Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers Likes to Help People, Strained Friendships, little!Clint, relationships are hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7478187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Phich/pseuds/Mr_Phich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha isn’t sure how to react to this game Clint’s been playing with Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	somebody has to go polish the stars

**Author's Note:**

> This story overlaps with all the magic I have known. As always, thanks for reading, kudoing, and commenting! Now that I'm back at work it takes me a little longer to get back to comments, but I read and adore them all! Special mention to BB8, who has been patiently waiting since the very beginning for an answer to the Natasha question. Hope this lives up to expectation. (Also, many thanks to Sammys_Rose who pointed out that I had somehow failed to add this to the series. If you were following the series, that's why there was a delay. I did actually get this story up on Wednesday!)

 

_Somebody has to go polish the stars_

_They’re looking a bit dull._

_Somebody has to go polish the stars,_

_For the eagles and starling and gulls_

_Have all been complaining they’re tarnished and worn,_

_They say the want new ones we cannot afford._

_So please get your rags,_

_And your polishing jars,_

_Somebody has to go polish the stars._

  
  


Natasha didn’t know how to react at first, so she waited and she watched. Phil was prompt about assuring her of Clint’s safety, which was the number one priority. And then she had to wait. Natasha had practiced waiting most of her life, but that didn’t mean she liked it or was naturally good at it. It just meant that she could do it when she had too.

Wednesday crawled by. Natasha had hoped to be able to corner Clint at some point during the day but upon questioning JARVIS discovered that Clint was holed up in Steve’s apartments. She attempted to withhold judgement but mostly though that was a pretty cowardly move. With no other options, Natasha was forced to spend most of the day researching. Even with her skills, the internet was touch and go. More than half the information didn’t apply and most of what was left was largely badly written and based on opinion, not fact. She was not impressed.

Natasha arrived early to dinner and was not surprised to find that most of the team (sans Sam, Phil, Steve, and Clint) were already gathered. Tony and Bruce were arguing about one of their latest experiments while Pepper and Thor seemed to be discussing the intricacies of brocade. Natasha felt her lips twitch. She had grown fond of these people in the last two years - had discovered that they were good people who could be trusted and who she was honored to fight beside.

The year without Phil had been extremely difficult. Natasha had always struggled to connect to people, and without Phil’s patient support and Clint’s humor and mischief it had seemed impossible. And that’s what it came down to didn’t it? She had needed Clint. She had been hurting too and he was the only person she had left who she trusted to help her deal with emotions that were foreign and overwhelming. Clint had let her down; he’d left her alone and struggling while he played this game with Steve. And yes, Phil had said that Clint needed that which was fine - she wanted Clint to have everything that he’d ever wanted, always. But Natasha had been in too many relationships that were one-sided (had cultivated those relationships for hits and missions) to trust anything that wasn’t reciprocal. Natasha had needed Clint. Clint hadn’t been there. And she didn’t know what do with those feelings.

She sat down at the table with her teammates.

“Okay,” Tony demanded at once, turning his full attention to her, “Did you see this coming? Because if you didn’t I can stop feeling bad.”

Natasha shook her head. She hadn’t seen any of this coming because Clint had been far away and they hadn’t been looking at each other.

“It’s a little weird, right?” Tony said, turning to include the whole team. “I mean, like whatever keeps you sane, obviously. But Clint and Cap and - “ Tony waggled his hands as he trailed off.

“I suppose.” Bruce sort of shrugged. “But I think we all know that as coping mechanisms go, this one’s pretty innocent.”

Was it innocent thought? Natasha didn’t know, couldn’t judge without all the facts. Phil said it was safe, sane, and consensual but Natasha couldn’t help feeling suspicious. She had lost Clint when this game started, and that wasn’t nothing.

“I don’t really understand the whole thing,” Pepper admitted. “I looked it up last night, but most of what I found didn’t really apply.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, the internet can be like that. Sends you straight to the porn.”

“You would know,” Natasha said slyly. Tony stuck his tongue out at her and she smiled. Some things, it seemed, would not change with this bomb that had been dropped on them.

“I have seen only a little,” Thor said, voice thoughtful. Natasha was suddenly reminded that Thor had access that they didn’t, given that he watched Bucky for Steve twice a week. “But I did not know that Clint was included.”

“What’re they like?” Tony asked. “Barnes and Steve.”

“Like family. Perhaps at first I read them as brothers,” A little sadness there, reminding Natasha that in many ways Thor had lost his brother. “Steven is very protective and James requires much of him, but I thought that to be expected.”

“Yes,” Bruce sighed. “Given all that he’s been through.”

“Is this - ageplay appropriate given that trauma?” Pepper’s voice was tight with concern that Natasha shared. While her main focus was on Clint, Yasha - Bucky had been one of her first real allies back in the days of the Red Room. She didn’t know if he remembered that, if there was any lasting connection to be had through the trauma and brain washing and computer chips in brains, but she felt oddly responsible anyway. At the very least, she wanted to make sure that he was safe.

“Dunno. We should get Cap’s shrink down here.” Tony added. “JARVIS?”

“Sending for him now, sir. If I may?”

“Yeah JARVIS?” Tony said absentmindedly.

“The Captain has given me permission to give the team some details of the ageplay he takes part in with Masters Barton and Barnes.” Tony gaped at the ceiling where JARVIS’ speaker was located. Natasha’s lips twitched. For a genius Tony could be remarkably slow on the uptake. Of course, she ignored the fact that she had also failed to ask JARVIS for information. It was surprisingly easy to forget that they were literally watched 24/7 here. Natasha didn’t usually forget such things, but JARVIS was so unobtrusive and protective that even the wariest of them were prone to forgetting.

“You were keeping this from me JARVIS? I’m hurt, really hurt.” Tony moaned, clapping a hand dramatically on his chest, just as Sam stepped out of the elevator, Phil beside him. They had clearly come from a rooftop terrace - hair and clothes wind blown and Phil’s cheeks pink with the wind.

“I am sure, sir. However Captain Rogers had this information under his strictest security clearance code.” Tony had programmed each of them a code within JARVIS so that they could set boundaries - which information could or could not be shared with Tony and the others. (Yet another reason it was easy to forget JARVIS was always watching).

“We talkin’ about this age play thing?” Sam asked, plopping down at the table after grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl.

Natasha nodded in his direction. Sam hummed and said, “I gotta be honest, I don’t have much experience in this arena.”

Tony scowled a little and went back to slurping obnoxiously at his coffee. Phil joined them at the table, sitting down next to Natasha with a cup of coffee.

“You!” Tony pointed at Phil. “Spill. You must know something about all this.”

“What do you want to know?” Phil asked, voice infuriatingly calm and pleasant. Tony opened his mouth, probably to bombard Phil with inappropriate questions, but Pepper interrupted.

“Can we back up a minute - I’m still not sure that I completely understand this ageplay thing.”

“Yes, I too could use some clarification,” Thor boomed.

Phil pursed his lips thoughtfully.

JARVIS’ voice came over the speaker again, “If I could, sir?” Tony waved his permission.

“As Captain Rogers said last night, ageplay is a type of roleplay. Primarily it is understood as a way to shift power dynamics within a relationship. This places it under the umbrella term BDSM, which stands for Bondage, Discipline, Dominance, Submission, Sadism and Masochism and covers a wide variety of sexual and non-sexual behaviors that make use of exaggerated or shifted power dynamics.”

“Alright,” Pepper said. “I follow so far.”

“Very good, Ms. Potts. The type of roleplay that Captain Rogers and Masters Barton and Barnes engage in is non-sexual and constitutes a lifestyle, as these dynamics are a part of their daily life and functioning.”

“I get all that. I just don’t understand...they act like children?”

“In some ways yes, Ms. Potts. However I believe that they would argue that their is a part of them that is very much a child and this aspect of their characters is simply...let out when they play.”

Pepper nodded, looking thoughtful, as her eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed. Natasha was happy to sit back and listen to this conversation. Pepper always asked thoughtful questions so Natasha was sure she would get the information she needed without revealing her own lack of understanding or knowledge. But it scared her to think of Clint carrying a child around inside his mind. That made him vulnerable, weak. It was a weakness people could exploit and therefore should be put away, far away.

Phil added, “It’s a way to shift responsibility too, to ease some of the load that they have to carry by allowing Steve to take care of them.” That Natasha could understand - though she didn’t think she could ever trust anyone to hold her responsibilities for her. She barely trusted herself.

“But what does Steve get from it?” Pepper asked.

“Captain Rogers,” JARVIS answered, “Has expressed that his role as father makes him feel both wanted and in control, feelings  that he has previously lacked.”

Tony whistled in a breath. Natasha, too, felt like the air had been kicked out of her. She knew that Steve had struggled some, since waking up in this century, but he had always seemed to put it behind him so easily. To know that he hadn’t felt wanted or in control - well. Those were feelings that Natasha could identify with easily.

“We have wronged him then,” Thor sadly said. “He is our captain. He should know that he is both wanted and a good leader here among us.”

Nods swept around the table.

“Alright, alright,” Tony chirped a moment later. “We’ll make sure Cap knows he’s totally awesome and adored. Now I want to hear details from Phil and JARVIS. Prepare us!”

“What would you like to know, sir?” JARVIS said, voice dry. Natasha appreciated JARVIS’ sense of humor.

“Well - how old are they, to start?” Tony asked. “Any particular interests?”

“You’re not allowed to buy them a bunch of stuff they don’t need so they know you accept them, Tony.” Pepper said wryly, looked exasperated. Natasha and Bruce chuckled, familiar with that tendency of Tony’s. Tony waived away the concern.

“I’m just trying to get to know the small versions of our teammates. You should be proud of me!” Pepper rolled her eyes.

Phil quickly stepped in to keep the conversation from getting too sidetracked. “Clint’s never told me an exact age and I haven’t seen him little often enough that I can really give a good estimate, but perhaps four?”

“You’re not included in their play?” Bruce asked curiously.

Phil shook his head, but didn’t offer more. Tony looked like he wanted to push but Pepper lay a restraining hand on his arm and he settled back.

“JARVIS, that sound about right to you?”

“I believe so, sir. An exact age has never been expressed, though from other conversations I gather that Master Barton is usually between two and a half and four, though that is a flexible range. Master Barnes is much newer to the play and his age fluctuates more, usually ranging between two and five.”

“Pretty young, then.” Sam said thoughtfully. Natasha tried to imagine Clint that small. As a child she imagined he would have been too skinny, rough around the edges, angry at the world, and tougher than he needed to be - not too different from how he’d always been. What would a four year old Clint look like?  Who would he be? Would she recognize anything about him? She didn’t know and that scared her.

“James has never been so young when I have been with him, but perhaps that was purposeful,” Thor added.

“What do kids that young even _do_?” Tony asked, eyes narrowed in what appeared to be honest confusion. 

JARVIS’ voice came over the speaker again, “Young Master Barton prefers toys such as blocks or legos and shows a specific fondness for outer space and astronaut themed toys and games. Young Master Barnes is still developing his interests, but he enjoys animals and dolls. Both enjoy being read too, playing games, and doing crafts with Captain Rogers.”

“We should get them gifts,” Pepper said thoughtfully, contradicting her earlier statement to Tony about not showing acceptance with material goods. “Kids like that. And while Tony’s usual approach isn’t always the best, it may be a good way to show our acceptance of them.”

“Yes,” Bruce added. “And it would show Steve that we’re supportive as well.”

“We can throw them a coming out party!” Tony clapped his hands excitedly. “We’ll make it a surprise!” The conversation descended into party plans. Natasha let the noise flow over her, familiar and comforting, and tried not to think too much about that night and everything it would bring.

*

It took a while to process everything. Clint was as different as she’d feared - soft, needy, and reliant on Steve. But he was also happy. Happier than Natasha could ever remember seeing him in all their years together, and more peaceful too. He seemed like he felt safe. Natasha was only barely beginning to feel that for herself and she wasn’t going to take it from Clint, not ever. So she would just have to learn to accept this game he played with Steve, even if she didn’t understand or like it.

Clint was happy and safe and that was enough.

Natasha picked through her possessions for the perfect gift. She had very few things left from her childhood, not that they were allowed to have much in the first place. She put aside a pair of worn ballet slippers and her first knife and found what she was looking for. One of the first trainers she’d had gave her the book, a beautifully illustrated version of _Tale of the Golden Cockerel_. He’d been gone not long after that, but Natasha hid the book away and kept it safe.

It would have to do for Clint, it would have to say the things that she had never learned to say and then she could say the words that maybe he’d always needed to hear and she’d always needed to say but had never been able to.

She planned for the present to speak for itself so they didn’t have to actually talk, but found that it wasn’t enough. They didn’t immediately fall back into friendship or ease. The next time they were at breakfast together it was just as awkward as it had been for the last two years. Frankly, that just pissed her off. She didn’t know how to fix relationships or people, so she cornered Phil, who did.

“How do I fix it?” She demanded, waiting outside Phil’s door when the elevators opened. He’d just come back from SHIELD and was still wearing his suit and carrying a briefcase. Phil just blinked at her, well used to her ways after their many years working together.

“Fix what?” He asked, unlocking his door.

“Clint and I.” She said firmly. Phil glanced up with surprised eyebrows, pushing up the door. He didn’t say anything which meant he expected more from her. Natasha sighed. “Our friendship. It is not the same.”

“We never really talked about that,” Phil said mildly, setting his briefcase down and heading for the kitchen, likely to make tea again. Natasha followed. “Why it changed in the first place.”

“I don’t know,” Natasha admitted, aggravated by the lack of knowledge and not trying to hide it - not with Phil anyway.

“Until you know why you can’t really do anything to fix it, now can you?” Phil added. Natasha glared at him and left before he could start the water boiling.

She thought about going down to the gym, but ultimately ended up back in her rooms. She paced for a while, trying to come up with a coherent reason she and Clint had fallen out before giving up and going down to convince Bruce to do some yoga with her. That would settle her in her body, at least for a little bit.

Sunday she avoided anywhere she thought Clint might be. By Monday she was going a little stir crazy so she dragged herself up to breakfast with the team.

Natasha was glad she did.

Words rattled around her head. _Permanent trauma...emotional functioning affected… increased sensitivity...reduced ability to handle stress._ It was something she should have known - should have noticed. She knew that Clint struggled. She knew that he was benched. But mind control could do that to the best of them, she knew that better than most. She felt like she should have been told. She felt horrified that she hadn’t seen.

Almost as soon as Steve and Clint had left the breakfast area, Phil was by her side.

“You need to talk to Steve,” He said firmly. Natasha pursed her lips and shook her head. She didn’t want to talk to Steve, who had kept this damage from her (she could have protected Clint better if she’d known) and had taken Clint from her. She was angry at Steve.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist, Natasha. Come on.” When Phil insisted there wasn’t really another choice involved. Natasha sighed but followed Phil to the elevator, down to Steve’s floor and to his door, where Phil knocked firmly.

The door opened quickly, revealing Thor and Steve talking quietly, Yasha held in Steve’s arms. Steve had opened the door and gave them a distracted smile and waved them in.

“Thanks again, Thor,” He was saying.

“It is always a pleasure to play with young James!” Thor announced, at half his usual volume. She was surprised when Thor fondly ruffled Bucky’s hair before giving his farewells.

“Hey Phil, Natasha. What can I do for you?” Steve asked. Yasha had his eyes hidden in Steve’s neck, though his body was more relaxed than she had seen it while awake.

“Natasha needs to speak to you about Clint,” Phil said. Natasha barely resisted glaring at him. She didn’t need anything, and certainly not to talk to Steve about her closest friend.

Steve didn’t even have the decency to look surprised. He just nodded and said, “Of course. Just give me a moment to get Bucky settled,” Bucky whined quietly. “And I’ll be right with you - could you just wait in the kitchen?”

Phil nodded and dragged Natasha behind him into the kitchen though she would have preferred to have stayed and observed. She could barely make out the low rumbles of Steve’s voice and a quieter one that must have been Yasha’s. The TV turned on, drowning both of them out before Steve appeared in the doorway.

“Sorry about that. It’s always hard for him when I’m gone, so we usually cuddle when I get back. I told him two episodes of _Peep,_ so that gives us about forty minutes.” Phil smiled mildly at that as Steve sat down. “So, what did you need to talk about?”

He turned his open blue eyes to Natasha and she wanted to be angry but mostly she just felt hurt.

She pursed her lips and turned her eyes away.

Steve sighed.

“I know that you and Clint drifted apart after the Chitauri and Loki,” Steve said mildly. Natasha snorted. “I know that it was mostly Clint.”

At that she glanced up, surprised. She met his eyes again. They were kind and gentle, as they always were when they weren’t in the field. Steve rubbed his hands through his hair, one of his tells for tension or discomfort.

“Things were really bad Natasha.” She rolled her eyes - she knew that. “No, I mean _really_ bad.”

“He broke,” Phil said. They were words he would not have uttered unless he absolutely meant them and she whipped her head around to meet Phil’s gaze. He held steady under her piercing stare.

“Clint was barely functioning at all,” Steve said sadly. “And that was by the time I got to him, which was two months after the fact. He wasn’t capable of asking for help but he also didn’t feel like he was worthy of it.”

Natasha winced. Phil’s eyes shuttered.

Steve swallowed tightly but continued. “I think that he was deathly afraid of losing you after losing Phil. I think - I think he decided that you would be better off without him.”

She shook her head, rejecting even the idea. Steve lay a hand on hers, her fingers twitched against her will.

“I know that you don’t feel that way and that it isn’t true. I think Clint knows it too. Now, I mean. But by the time he was better again - it might have felt like it was too late, that the damage was already done.” Natasha sighed again, admitting to herself that there was likely some truth to that. She would have demanded too many answers.

But they were answers to questions she still had.

“How did _you_ fix him?” She demanded, glancing hard up into Steve’s face. He only smiled, the infuriating bastard.

“I didn’t really,” He negated.

“No, you did.” Phil interrupted. “You fixed things that have been broken for longer than I’ve known Clint.” Steve blushed at that and ran a hand through his hair again, leaving it in disarray.

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “I think we just got lucky, honestly. I think I needed to help him in the way he needed to be helped. I needed someone who trusted and relied upon me completely and he needed someone to trust and rely on completely.”

It didn’t make sense, Natasha wanted to spit. She trusted and relied on Clint. Not completely, of course not. That was a fairy tale - and exaggeration Steve was telling himself. No one trusted completely or let someone take care of all their needs.

But Phil was nodding thoughtfully.

“And that was this - this game you play?” She asked instead, despite her disbelief and frustration.

Steve’s lips quirked in a strange way but he nodded. “Yeah, a lot of it was.”

She shook her head, thoroughly frustrated at her own confusion. She just didn’t understand. Steve seemed to read some of that and he went on.  

‘When you were a child things were bad,” He said softly and Natasha looked away. Steve knew more than she would have liked about that. He was unusually gifted at getting her to talk about things she never talked about. “None of your emotional needs were taken care of. For you that means that you have trouble trusting and connecting emotionally to other people.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” She snapped.

“Let him continue, Tasha,” Phil said softly, gently. Beside Clint, Phil was the only other person who knew what her childhood had been like. They had needed to in order to break her conditioning, otherwise she probably never would have shared.

Steve paused until she nodded her acceptance.

“But you were taken care of - you were fed and clothed and bathed.” Often with too much kindness, Natasha thought bitingly, so that we would trust them. Love them. Believe in them. “These things weren’t always honest, of course, but they were there. Clint didn’t have any of that.”

Natasha blinked. She only knew very little about Clint’s childhood - that he was very poor and very hungry. That at seven his parents had died and he’d been taken by social services until he ran away when he was ten to live with the circus. She’d seen some scars, of course, could fill in the gaps of the story herself, but Clint never discussed it; never said anything about it.

“It’s Clint’s to share,” Steve said and Natasha nearly rolled her eyes. Steve was anal about privacy. “But there was no security in his childhood - not physical, not emotional and not for his basic needs. I can’t make up for that. No one can. But I can - I like to think I have - show him that he deserved those things. That he deserved to be loved and cared for and safe and that he continues to deserve those things and can ask for them - and anything that he needs.”

 _Oh._ Oh.

That made a sort of terrible sense.

Clint hadn’t never asked for anything in her memory - not anything real, anyway. He waited until it was available and took it. She’d thought it was his mischievous nature - that he liked to feel like he was getting away with something when got a second serving at lunch, or a kiss goodbye from Phil, or a quick cuddle with her - . She thought of years of Clint collapsing on top of her in an undignified sprawl after she patted the seat beside her, of wrestling until they were breathless and laying together in a pile of limbs and felt horribly, suddenly guilty.

How could she not have seen, how could she have not known.

Steve squeezed her hand.

“He hid it well,” He said softly, “Until Loki meant he couldn’t anymore.”

She nodded, feeling something like tears creeping up her throat.

The front door banged open, and Clint’s voice called out, “Steve?” And then, “Oh, hi Bucky. Is that Peep, why’s Daddy letting you watch TV…” His voice got quieter and soft murmurs could be heard between two distinct voices.

Steve smiled a watery smile and said, “I’ve gotta go see to him. I’ll see if he’s up to talking - he might not be,” he warned. Natasha nodded as Steve left the room and turned her gaze back to Phil. His face was sad, but not surprised, as if he’d heard this before. He probably had, in the year he’d been back.

“Did you feel guilty?” She asked quietly, because she knew that she could ask Phil these kinds of questions.

“Yes. Terribly so. You got the gentle version - I got Clint yelling at me,” Phil quirked a smile at her and she offered one in return. “But a lot of that’s gone away. I gave Clint other things he needed. Only a parent could fix this.”

It was hard to accept. Clint was _her’s_. Her’s to protect and care for and love, and it had been hard enough to share him with Phil, even when she knew their relationships were so different. This was harder still. She and Phil sat in silence for several minutes, listening to the quiet rumbles of male voices in the other room (the TV had been paused).

Eventually Steve came in, Clint a step behind him, looking hesitant and almost shy. But he didn’t look as he’d looked at movie night or brunch - impossibly young and carefree.

Clint took a seat without looking at them, hands fiddling with the edge of his t-shirt in an unfamiliar gesture. Natasha’s eyes narrowed - she knew all of Clint’s gestures and tics like the back of her hand. That she didn’t know this one alarmed her.

“So Clint,” Steve said calmly, taking his own seat. “We were just talking a little bit about what happened after Loki,” Clint flinched and Steve took his hand. Natasha stared at the point of contact. “And why you and Natasha drifted apart and why it was so difficult for you to ask for help. Do you have anything to add?”

Clint shrugged, then nodded, then shrugged again. Steve’s hand flexed around Clint’s. Clint took a deep breath.

“I wanted to ask,” He whispered. “I swear I did. I felt so fuckin’ dirty, Tasha and I didn’t - I didn’t want ya’ t’see.”

Natasha swallowed tightly again, against unwanted tears and emotion.

“You let Steve see,” She accused. There were two years of resentment and loneliness in her and they didn’t go away because she understood. They existed. They were real. She had learned that lesson the hard way, through years of conflict and counseling and by Phil and Clint’s hands, and she wasn’t going to let it go.

“It was an a-” Unexpectedly, Clint blushed. “It wasn’t on purpose - I was havin’ I -”

“Clint was having a particularly bad day,” Steve smoothly cut in. “It was after his second mission after Loki.” Natasha winced. She knew how badly that mission had gone. “And he had a really bad panic attack. I was the only one home and JARVIS called me to step in.”

Clint nodded quickly. “And after that - well, he’d already seen the worst, y’know. He already knew. There wasn’t anything to lose.” Steve’s face creased with sadness and he squeezed Clint’s hand again. Natasha sighed - chance. It was all down to chance. If she’d been there instead -. If she’d been there instead Steve and Clint might never have started playing and Phil had already made clear how critical that relationship was.

“I was alone,” She finally said. Clint couldn’t have asked for help, she understood that. He didn’t want her to see, she understood that too. But she had been alone and hurting and Clint was all she had left. “I was hurting too. You didn’t - you didn’t even ask.”

Clint’s shoulders hitched and she wondered if he was going to cry (he cried when he was little and it had been strange and threatening and awful). “M’sorry Tasha. M’so sorry,” He mumbled.

She looked away. She wanted to forgive him. She didn’t know if she could.

There was an awful, still moment. Clint’s breathing was uneven, though he wasn’t crying.

Finally Steve spoke. “That’s fair, Natasha. You both needed someone then. And I get that you feel like Clint let you down. But Tasha,” She softened a little, reminded that she trusted Steve. That he had held her secrets and had her back. “Clint didn’t have anything to give. He just didn’t. I’m sorry you got hurt in that - I really am. I never want any of you to hurt. But Clint couldn’t have done anything differently.” Natasha tensed.

She waited for Clint to argue. She waited for Phil to negate what Steve was saying.

Neither came.

She’d barely seen Clint in the month after the attack, for all that they lived together. When she had seen him then, and in the next several months, he had seemed an empty shell.

_Clint didn’t have anything to give._

_Anything to give._

_Anything._

Natasha sighed. She had been hurt by him and hurting him simultaneously - they both had. And it had dragged on and one because neither of them could speak this way - honestly to each other about what they needed. It would probably still hurt for a long time to come. Maybe things would never be quite the same. But if she wanted Clint back it had to be forgiven - they had both been at their worst and they had done their worst by each other. It was time to let go of that.

“Okay. Okay. What do we do now?”

*

Clint shuddered his relief and his fear. He might just get Tasha back, he might. He hadn’t thought he ever would, not really.

He glanced to Steve. He was almost all the way to little and holding on to scraps of big with all his might and he just, he really needed Steve to tell him what to do next.

Steve sighed. “We’ll take it slow. Relationships are hard work and there’s time to be made up for. Right now Clint is here to be little.” Clint blushed a bit even though he knew Tasha probably knew that was why he was here. But then Steve said, “Would you like to stay?”

Clint blushed harder and wrung his t-shirt with his hands and folded his shoulders in. He thought he was okay with Tasha seeing, but it was different when they were visitin’ with everyone than at home. That was just - it was different. It felt scary and overwhelming. He scooched into Daddy’s side. Daddy put an arm around him.

“I - alright,” Tasha said, voice a little tight.

“I have to go tend to some paperwork,” Phil said apologetically. “Let me know if anything comes up.” That was directed at Daddy cause Phil always said something like that to Daddy when he was leaving Clint with him.

“Will do, Phil. Thanks.” Clint peeked up in time to see Phil nod and smile. Phil dropped a kiss on Clint’s head and Clint basked in knowing that Phil loved him - all of him. Phil left, leaving Clint with Tasha and Daddy.

“Clint needs to get changed into his little clothes, Natasha. I’m going to take him and Bucky into the bedroom. Would you mind waiting in the living room for us?” Natasha nodded but she was staring and Clint kinda wanted to hide. Before he could decide how or where, Daddy scooped him up in his arms and that was definitely Clint’s favorite place to hide. Or just to be. Just - his favorite place, really.

Natasha followed them on soft feet into the living room. When Bucky saw them he immediately held his arm up to be lifted and Daddy did. (Daddy never said no when they wanted to be carried.) Clint smiled at Bucky and Bucky smiled back across Daddy’s chest while Daddy carried them into the bedroom, closing the door behind them with his foot.

Daddy sat on the bed with them both in his arms still.

“Bucky, baby?” Daddy asked, which is what he did when he wanted to let Bucky know that he needed to pay attention. Bucky looked up at Daddy. “Natasha’s going to stay for a while this afternoon.” Bucky frowned and Clint felt bad because Bucky didn’t like surprises and Natasha was there ‘cause of him which was almost like he was hurtin’ Bucky. “Not for a long time,” Daddy reassured. “But she’s Clint’s very good friend and they’ve been having a hard time for a while, so we need to help them be friends again. Can you help me with that?”

Bucky looked thoughtful and stayed quiet for a minute. Clint wiggled impatiently (it was hard to let Bucky have so much time to think all the time.)

“Can help,” Bucky agreed. Daddy smiled and gave him a kiss. Clint whined. He wanted a kiss! Daddy chuckled and kissed his cheek too before blowing on it playfully. Clint giggled - silly Daddy! He rubbed his cheek - it was all spitty now! Daddy made a silly face and soon Clint was on the bed and Daddy was blowin’ on his belly and it tickled so much that all Clint could do was laugh and laugh. Bucky was laughin’ too.

But then Clint’s belly started getting all tight and he knew what that meant, so he quick told Daddy, “Stop! ‘top Daddy, gonna potty!” Daddy stopped right away and helped Clint up off the bed and got him to the potty super, super quick and even helped Clint with his pants, cause he was still wearin’ his jeans and they had a lot of fiddly bits.

His undies were maybe a little bit wet but it was okay because Daddy took ‘em away before Clint could really see and brought him some comfy pants and a pull up. That was good because Clint really really really didn’t wanna have an accident in front of Tasha. That would be the worst ever. After Clint had pottied and put his little clothes on and washed his hands they went out to Bucky, who was lying on back makin’ his dolls talk to each other. Clint giggled.

Bucky grinned and Daddy smiled, real big.

“Bud, d’you want a pull up too?” Daddy asked. Clint started looking for his blankie while Bucky thought. He found it inside his pillow case, which was kinda a silly place for it. He tucked it up against his face and breathed deep. It smelled like Daddy and Bucky and bedtime and baths. Clint sighed a happy sigh.

“Yes Daddy,” Bucky said. Clint lay down in bed and listened to Daddy help Bucky get changed. He loved Daddy’s bed. It was big and comfy and the perfect place for cuddles.

“Don’t go to sleep, lovebug,” Daddy said, voice soft and rumbly. Clint blinked his eyes open to look at Daddy. His thumb was in his mouth, but he didn’t remember putting it there. He stuck his arms out to be picked up.

“Not goin to sleep,” Clint informed Daddy as they walked towards the bedroom door. Bucky was holdin’ Daddy’s other hand. “Just sayin’ hi to the bed.”

“Is that right?” Daddy chuckled. Clint nodded seriously. “I bet it missed you almost as much as Bucky and I did.”

Clint smiled. He missed Daddy and Bucky when he wasn’t there too and it was kinda nice to know they missed him back.

Natasha was waiting outside for them and Clint got shy all over again, despite Daddy and Bucky’s closeness. He could hear Bucky hiding and whining too. He wanted to tell Bucky sorry that Natasha was there but he can’t say that in front of Natasha because she won’t understand and he’ll ruin everything again. He felt tears burn behind his eyes and he squished closer to Daddy.

“So,” Daddy’s chest rumbled underneath Clint’s ear, which made everything seem a little bit easier. “I was thinking we could do some finger painting.”

Clint perked up at that. He loved to finger paint! Daddy never got mad about about messes or anything, and then they’d get a bath, and it was just a lot of fun. Clint peeked his eyes out to look up at Daddy.

“Fingerpainting!” He said excitedly. Daddy laughed a little and nodded.

Daddy had to put them down in the kitchen to set up. Clint tried not to look at Natasha who was standing in the doorway, but helped Daddy get all the paints out instead. Daddy even got the really really big paper out, the one that they unrolled across the kitchen floor. Clint flopped to the floor, grinning excitedly at Bucky, who grinned back, while Daddy filled plastic containers with paint. He set them down where Bucky and Clint could reach and Clint immediately shoved his hand into the purple paint and slammed it down on the paper. It made a satisfying squelching noise and was cool and and squishy between his fingers. A drop landed on Bucky’s nose and Bucky went a little cross eyed trying to see it and Clint giggled.

“Here Natasha,” He heard Daddy saying. Clint looked backwards at Daddy, who was handing Natasha one of his painting t-shirts. “You can wear this so your clothes don’t get too painty.”

There was already paint on Clint’s sleeve but he ignored it. (Usually when they fingerpainted they just wore undies or pull ups but even the idea of doing that when Tasha was there made Clint blush and feel all squirmy and embarrassed.) Daddy sat down next to Bucky and dipped his finger into the paint. Clint leaned over the paper to see what Daddy would draw.

*

Natasha felt out of her depth. In one hand she clutched a paint spattered t-shirt that would surely dwarf her tiny frame. In front of her were three grown men crouched around a roll of brown butcher paper, hands covered in paint.

Steve looked up at her. His eyes were gentle and more relaxed than she could remember seeing them. He smiled and waved invitingly. “Come join us, Natasha. Fingerpainting is just an excuse to make a giant mess.”

Natasha couldn’t remember being encouraged to make a mess in her entire life. She was about to shake her head when she caught Clint looking up at her, looking too young and sweet and hopeful. She slid into the t-shirt given to her. It was clearly Steve’s and covered her almost to her knees. Gingerly she crouched beside Clint, enough distance to be comfortable but closer than she would with anyone else. She watched for a moment longer. Even Bucky was more animated than she had seen him, though she didn’t know whether that was the activity or the setting. Bucky was drawing orange squiggles around Clint’s yellow splotch. It wasn’t until Clint took a thumb and pressed it into the splotch that she realized it was meant to be a lion.

Carefully she reached a finger out and dipped it into the blue paint. She swiped it against the paper, surprised by the brightness of the sensations - the cool slick paint and the rough, solid paper.

“Itsa whale!” Clint announced, startling her. He was studying her blue line, which didn’t look like much of anything to her. Eagerly Clint dipped two fingers into the blue and quickly added several swipes of color. Natasha was honestly surprised when the whale emerged and she shot a curious and perplexed gaze over to Clint. His face was lit up, bright and excited and totally at ease. Clint chirped, “Now we need a shark!”

“Fishes,” Yasha added. His voice was quiet but louder than she could remember hearing it since he returned.

“We should have some coral too,” Steve said thoughtfully. Before she knew what was happening three hands were swirling and dipping around her. She watched in a sort of muted awe as an entire ocean scene bloomed in front of her. She looked up and caught Steve’s eye. He smiled, face too understanding.

“Tasha!” Clint said, pulling on her sleeve, leaving a muddy purple handprint. “Make a circus with me!” Clint’s eyes were open and honest and happy. He was close and safe and cared for.

“What color should the tent be?” Natasha asked.

*

A day and a half later, JARVIS announced Clint’s presence outside her door while she was reading on the couch. She had vegetables roasting in the oven and the whole apartment smelled vaguely of nutmeg.

“Let him in,” Natasha allowed. Clint appeared a moment later. His face was a little nervous, but not too bad. He looked almost normal. For a moment he just stood there, looking at her. Then he walked over, plopping onto the couch and laying his head in her lap. He reached for the remote and flipped the TV on.

Natasha smiled.

  
_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> [This](http://www.tradestonegallery.com/index.php?content=fairytaleview&fairytaleid=8&fairytale=goco&length=S) is the story that Natasha gave Clint. I have updated the [summer schedule](https://imdefinitelyyourcat.tumblr.com/post/147189057359/everyone-deserves-a-chance-to-be-small) with specific dates and story summaries because look at me, I'm so organized. Updates will be on Wednesdays from here on out.


End file.
